


THE TRICK IS NOT TO FEAR

by chasiu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Princess Mononoke Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Inspired by Princess Mononoke, M/M, Oikawa Tooru is a Little Shit, Old Gods, POV Kita Shinsuke, Spirits, shirabu is in this too actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29816244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasiu/pseuds/chasiu
Summary: It’s 14th century Japan. There are forest spirits, the gods are real, and this is how Shinsuke becomes human.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10
Collections: Haikyuu Big Bang 2020





	THE TRICK IS NOT TO FEAR

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ask_the_psychis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ask_the_psychis/gifts).



> Content warnings for graphic (though mostly vague) descriptions of gore and violence !! Then again, Mononoke is one of the most violent Ghibli movies. So yup
> 
> For the HQ Big Bang 2020! All my love to Nat (illuminati_png) for the [ beautiful art for this fic! ](https://twitter.com/illuminati_png/status/1366989127460208640?s=20)

After another day of foraging, tree-leaping and fending off more vicious attacks from Oikawa Tooru and his band of disgusting humans, Shinsuke decided he could get used to this new routine. That was not a good thing. It didn’t mean things didn't have to change, or that the new settlement Seijoh-or-something didn’t need to be driven out as soon as possible, but it just meant that this had become a constant in his life, and that was the first step to getting a proper advantage.

The attacks were nothing special, really. In fact, it was probably more the wolves attacking _them_ than them attacking the wolves, which was justified--the paltry land Seijoh is built on had been--still _was_ \--theirs, as much as the evergreen forest was (although Oikawa Tooru would have it otherwise and they all know it), before the humans had razed it completely to the ground with their fire and weapons and the metal monsters they called _machinery_ . Shinsuke liked to consider himself one who avoided conflict, much rather being the one to bring matters to a resolution, but there were some things he could never, _never_ forgive.

Another bonus was that he was really damn good at combat. 

The wolves were ruthless, yes. They were volatile, possessed an unparalleled strength that brought humans, spirits, hell, the entire rest of the forest to their knees. 

But Shinsuke caught them off-guard. Humans have no regard for animals they see as lesser than themselves, but when they see a human amongst the pack, there’s always a faltering moment, a register of confusion. Shock, sometimes, but it hardly mattered as long as Shinsuke made the element of surprise his.

He could certainly fight like the wolves. It’s how he was raised, after all. But he could also fight like a human, reason like a human. Act like a human. 

Didn’t mean he wanted to, but he was working on it. Mother had always told him his humanity was not something to shun, but rather to embrace. If anything, it was in itself a potent weapon. Shinsuke didn’t like the implications of that, but it was simply what it was. It was useful, and that was all there was to it, and so he observed and honed his humanity until it was as much a weapon as the knives at his belt.

The danger of risking a full-frontal attack on the humans was too much, but even so, even if it had been simple work, Mother insisted upon the value of all life, even life that didn’t value them back.

This was undoubtedly a little hard to think about whilst Mother was suffering from the pain inflicted by that very kind of low-life scum, whilst he was sucking the poison out of the gaping wound between her matted fur—white, lovely, and soaked with so much blood he might have drowned if he were not careful.

The blood filled his mouth, tasted metallic and hot on his tongue, and he nearly winced; it scalded where it trickled down his cheek, and it was then when he felt it scrape at him through the dappled sunlight in an eerily calm scrutiny. 

He turned, spat out the poisoned blood in a fury, and met the gaze. 

The gaze in question belonged to a boy who looked just about his own age. A bow was slung at his shoulder--the quiver beside it was nearly empty. Not a threat. He didn’t look one, either--there was no look of bloodlust on him, none that Shinsuke could distinguish, and Shinsuke tended to be very good at attuning to that part of humanity.

The Boy scrambled onto a boulder, standing tall and proud despite his heavily bandaged arm, and said something over the roar of the river--possibly some loud declaration of identity--but by this point, by the point of having to deal with Oikawa Tooru on a horrendously regular basis, Shinsuke wasn’t really interested in over-the-top introductions. 

‘Leave,’ he thundered, and retreated into the undergrowth, the heaving patter of Mother’s steps close behind. The blood might trail, but it was no matter. It was unlikely he would see the boy again, because the boy looked sensible enough and he _would_ leave if he knew what was good for him. No human ever stayed in the forest for long; Shinsuke himself was the exception that proved the rule.

But there were too many new humans and too little forest left. This had to end, sooner or later, and it would end soon--Shinsuke swore it would before the sun broke the next day.

* * *

It turned out he _did_ see the Boy again. It also turned out that he kept running into him at the most inconvenient times, such as during his mission to assassinate Oikawa Tooru in the seeming dead of night.

It was easy to get into Seijoh. Shinsuke had done it many times; he would not fail this one. He donned his mask, left Atsumu and Osamu outside the gates--bringing in two massive wolves along would have left too much to risk--and leapt in.

The dead of night did not turn out to actually be dead; in fact, Seijoh was filled to the brim with humans--this was intentionally planned, not a slaughter but rather a singular show of merciless strength that would undoubtedly drive everyone away from this place. It made sense, therefore, that the Boy would be amongst them. What he hadn’t expected was the Boy running underneath the rooftops to match his own steps, yelling something that sounded like ‘DO NOT WASTE YOUR LIFE DYING LIKE THIS.’

As if it mattered to Shinsuke whether he survived. 

If there was one thing Shinsuke knew about Oikawa Tooru, it was that he never let himself flicker static in the torchlight, and that was why he was the first person Shinsuke glimpsed with no little amount of triumph before he heard him yell, ‘FIRE,’ and the next thing he knew, the rooftop was collapsing underneath his feet. He threw his head back and barely avoided the second barrage of miniature explosions, letting the wind get knocked out of him as he fell to the floor. 

And then the next thing he saw was the Boy. 

Shinsuke lunged upwards. His mask was gone—the shots Oikawa had fired had made sure of it. The wind whipped at his face as he swung at the Boy, knife aimed at his head.

‘I’m not your enemy,’ the Boy shouted, as he dodged. The blade grazed his face and drew a thin, jagged wound across it, and he turned away--in that moment, Shinsuke kicked him in the stomach, knocking the Boy down, and kept running, leaping over the heads of the gathered crowd--above the spears they were brandishing--and emerged in the clearing.

Oikawa cleared his throat. 'It's so nice of you to join us tonight, wolf boy,' he grinned, as he dodged Shinsuke’s first knife.

'It's Shinsuke,' Shinsuke gritted out, as he sliced forward, only meeting the air between them.

Oikawa shrugged as he blocked Shinsuke’s every move--the smile never left his face as he ducked and wove, twisted to unsheathe his own katanas. 'Alright, Shinsuke, whatever you say. Anyway, aren’t you a little bored of this? This is hardly an entertaining show, you know.’

‘Stop talking and fight me properly,’ snapped Shinsuke, swiping at his throat--despite himself, his lip quirked into a resounding smirk. ‘Or are you stalling your time because you’re afraid to die?’

And that was enough for Oikawa to unravel. Shinsuke liked that. A part of him knew he had to be practical and would stand the biggest chance to kill Oikawa if he was distracted; the rest would only accept defeating Oikawa at his full strength. Either way, Shinsuke would give it his own all.

The crowd gathered in a circle around them; from all directions Shinsuke could hear the clanging of their weapons as they chanted in support of their leader. They were ready to charge in and spear Shinsuke through, if only Oikawa gave the order. But Oikawa didn’t, because his pride was too great to allow anyone else to kill Shinsuke. That was undoubtedly Oikawa’s greatest strength, but it also gave Shinsuke at least a little advantage.

He struck again, and again, and again, and swept under Oikawa’s blades, until Oikawa dodged at the exact angle he needed and there was an opening right there and he flew forward to meet it--

\--only to be stopped by a wretchedly familiar hand on his wrist.

And that was when Shinsuke realised what was off. The crowd had gone completely silent; instead, they were watching the encounter in a sort of dumbstruck awe.

The Boy had, somehow, emerged in the middle of the clearing. He held Oikawa firmly at arm’s length with one hand, and Shinsuke, somehow, had found himself in the other.

How _dare_ he. Shinsuke attempted to slice at the Boy’s arm, but his hold was firm. Shinsuke could get no closer, and neither, it seemed, could Oikawa.

Oikawa, typical of him, appeared completely unperturbed by this display of supernatural strength--but his jaw was clenched, and a bead of sweat rolled down his cheek in consternation as he struggled and failed to get out of the Boy’s grip. ‘Hey,’ he hissed at Shinsuke, ‘could you help me out a little here?' He gestured with one of his knives in the general direction of the Boy. 'I keep telling him to just get rid of the damn thing, because frankly, the usefulness of that super-strength aside, it just gets in the way, even when we’re trying to fight to the death, which I know _you_ want more than any of us. It's irritating, alright? He keeps refusing, as if the god of this forest cared enough to heal him of whatever he's got, and he’s even more stubborn than I am, which is saying something.' His smile shifted into a lazy smirk. 'But then again, we all know the most stubborn one here is you.'

If he hadn't harboured such vile intentions, Shinsuke might have liked him for his intelligence and sharp tongue, the way he commanded total and utter control over every situation he was in with such terrifying ease. But perhaps that sort of acquaintance was the destiny of another life, where the situation wasn't working against his favour and that of every life in the forest.

Instead, he turned to the boy, and said, voice calm and icy, ‘Let go of me _now._ I must kill him.’

The Boy shook his head. ‘Stop fighting,’ he insisted. ‘Do not let it grow.’

_Let what grow?_

And then he saw it. An odd, swirling dark energy around the Boy’s arm seemed to shimmer into something tangible--it emerged from his arm, there was no doubt about that. But it felt _wrong_ , and Shinsuke couldn’t help but gasp. 

Oikawa just shrugged, as if it was something he’d seen before. He probably had. ‘Guess it got to _that_ point. What about I just do you a favour and cut it off now.’ His grin twisted into something vicious.

'I am going to knock the both of you out now,' said the Boy hurriedly, attempting in vain to hold down the left side of his body and Shinsuke along with it. 'You would do well not to resist.’

The roar that came next was inhuman, but it was _not from him,_ and then, before he could properly register the sudden blow of pain at his head, the world turned black, and the last thing he could feel was the steady warmth of a hand catching him before he could hit the ground.

What woke him up was the unmistakable thud of a body being flung off a moving steed.

A deer, apparently, that they had both been riding until a few seconds ago, when said deer had bucked and skidded to a halt, throwing Shinsuke forward. He turned, alarm mounting at his throat, to see that the twins had approached the boy and were--well, one of them was now seemingly attempting to eat him alive.

‘Atsumu, easy,’ he ordered, running over as best as he could on a pounding head and unsteady legs. ‘Let me deal with him.’ He prodded the Boy with his foot. ‘You’re not dead, are you?’

Even laying on the floor with his head turned away, somehow, the Boy looked satisfied. ‘I carried you out of Seijoh,’ he murmured. ‘You’re safe now.’

Shinsuke could not have cared less for words like that. ‘Do you truly think that I would fear death if it meant this forest would live?’

‘No, you would not. You would do anything. Anything to save your home.’

‘And you’ve gotten in my way.’ Shinsuke turned the boy over and unsheathed his sword from his belt in one fell motion. He poised it at the Boy’s neck.

‘I could kill you now,’ he said softly.

‘But you already had the chance, and you didn’t,’ replied the Boy, tone even, unerring and completely disregarding of his own sword digging into the skin of his throat. He was facing him now, and Shinsuke realised for the first time that his eyes were a deep, rich hazel. ‘When you first confronted me, even disarmed you could have killed me easily. But you didn’t, that time, because you aimed at my face. That aside, you are the best I’ve ever fought. It would be an honour to die by your blade.’

The flat of Shinsuke’s palm pressed down on the sword. The Boy closed his eyes.

‘Fight back.’

The Boy brought his good arm up in an imitation of a shrug. ‘I am injured, and at your mercy. Fighting back would only bring more of a disadvantage with the pain.’

Shinsuke stared at him.

The Boy cracked one eye the slightest bit open to stare faintly back. ‘And I do not think you want to kill me _that_ badly.’

And if it weren’t for a sudden sound like thunder, Shinsuke might have stabbed him right then and there. But his sword clattered to the floor, and he turned, because the sound was not thunder, and could only mean one thing. 

Oh.

In all the excitement, he had forgotten completely.

He knew not to look, not to witness how terrifying and blinding the God’s presence was at its full strength. But the brilliant glow of light that suddenly surrounded them was unmistakable.

And to kill in front of the God as it walked the earth was to damn one’s soul to a fate worse than death.

For a second, he could have sworn he felt the brush of the God’s gaze on their backs--but that was impossible; they were too tiny, too irrelevant to his all-seeing eye--and then it was over, and the God was gone.

Shinsuke unfurled his hands from the Boy’s eyes--how did they even _get_ there?--and got back on his feet. Osamu watched him thoughtfully, though he was ready to strike at any moment, while Atsumu maintained his unceasing, reproachful glare on the Boy. ‘Both of you,’ he ordered. ‘This boy is a threat, but he must have a story to tell, so let him be saved first. At this rate, he will not live until daybreak.’

Atsumu, to his credit, shrunk back slightly. ‘So does this mean I don’t get to devour him?’

Osamu nudged him with a paw. To Shinsuke, ‘Will you go to the sacred lake? Is that your plan?’

‘Is there any other?’

The wolf dipped his head. ‘Then we will meet you there in the morning.’

Atsumu’s features twisted into a wolf’s scowl. ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to take the deer. I thought we were going to have a fruitful dinner.’

‘Trust me,’ said Shinsuke, walking back to where the deer waited faithfully. ‘Once we’re done, we can have at them all we want. But first, we need to fix this mess, and these outsiders have gotten themselves tied inextricably into it. We just need to find out why.’

* * *

The deer was called Kenjirou. He and the Boy came from somewhere far east. This was all the information Shinsuke was able to glean in exchange for saving his master’s life.

Kenjirou was indomitably loyal. This did not make him any more approachable, because it meant that Kenjirou insisted the Boy had to speak for himself in order to give the full story. This was irritating, because Kenjirou was clearly extremely intelligent and most likely could have dropped every slice of necessary context with the same ease at which he bounded through the forest, if he’d wanted to. 

They reached the spot, and Shinsuke made the necessary preparations; took a sacred herb and blessed all three of them with safe passage as best as he could. They waded into the lake, and Shinsuke winced as the chill of the holy water seeped into his own wounds.

He brought the Boy’s body to the shore, and lay him down on the grass. His body limp like a weed, hair splayed out lovely and wilted against the strange glow of the twilight grass, he looked already dead.

But he was breathing. And when they had descended into the water, his inhale had been sharp; Shinsuke had felt his chest rise against his back. And he was alive. He could be saved.

After a moment’s thought, he reached to untie Kenjirou’s leash and saddle. ‘You are free now,’ he said softly. ‘Go live your life.’

But Kenjirou was stubborn, built on the kind of loyalty that Shinsuke made no secret of admiring, and he watched as he stayed in the water regardless, rooted to the spot with the Boy his anchor--both of theirs. Both of them sitting ducks, waiting for a daybreak miracle.

And then it came. To view the God was sacred, but it was safe to do so in this haven. Shinsuke watched as he descended from the night, melting into corporeality from the stars.

Shinsuke himself had seen the God twice. Once was when he was a baby--he might have been young, but there are some things you are never able to forget, and that was one of them. Moro had brought him here to receive the blessing to raise a human in the forest; clearly, it had worked.

The second time was when he’d first been shot after running into the first settlers in Seijoh--two bullets to his left leg, one skimming his skull just close enough. That was how he knew for _certain_ that it worked.

Now it depended on whether the Boy was worthy.

There was a small splash as the Boy was nudged into the lake; Shinsuke watched as the telltale gold of the God’s healing blossomed from his chest as soon as it hit the water, coming to envelop him. He averted his eyes before it got blinding. 

Now that the Boy had gotten the God’s blessing—now that the God had saved his life—it made things even more severely complicated, but in that moment Shinsuke didn’t want to think about semantics. Oddly, he thought of the Boy’s eyes, virile and curious and full of hope, and all he could feel was relief.

And then it was done. The boy drifted back to their side of the shore, and morning filtered into the clearing. 

Shinsuke rushed to meet him, but Kenjirou got there first. After a few excited licks on the face, the Boy startled awake. 

Shinsuke arrived in time to witness his disorientation. ‘You’re alive,’ he said, and tried not to sound overly relieved about it. 

The Boy blinked at him. ‘So I am.’ He looked down at his arm, and frowned. ‘But my hand is still left to the demons.’

Shinsuke startled at that. ‘The God heals everything with its touch. What happened to your arm that could be so—‘

He was interrupted by the boars, because of course the boars knew to come at the most inconvenient of times. And then—

An all-too-familiar growl emanated from the forest, and his chest filled with relief and, finally, some sort of familiarity. ‘Mother.’

Mother herself emerged into the clearing, flanked by her legion of her best wolves. Shinsuke knew that in her hands he would be safe, but the Boy—they did not know about him. They had just as high a chance of killing him as the rest of this forest did. 

He flung himself in front of the boy. ‘The Forest God saved his life. You cannot kill him here, or now.’

The leader of the boars stepped forward.

‘We have come to dispose of the boy,’ he said. ‘He is a danger, and we do not believe you, Shinsuke of the wolves, honest as you may be.’

‘This is not your territory, ’growled Mother, in a tone that also said _Shinsuke, you had better explain this later._ ‘You have no place here. Go dispose of the humans on your side of the land. There are plenty. But not him. You can smell the God on him.’

‘What we smell,’ snapped the boar, ‘is the death of our kin on him. And he must pay.’

The death of their _kin?_

Before Shinsuke could reply, he felt a tug at his leg. The Boy rose to his feet and stepped forward. 

‘Good morning,’ he said. 'I must meet the god of the forest. In person, when I’m conscious and not on the brink of death. I need their favour.’

‘You’re human,’ stated Shinsuke, letting the words bleed clear and bitter between them. ‘Clearly, none of you have any need for the gods.’ 

‘You don’t understand,’ said the Boy simply, carefully unwrapping the gauze on his arm. ‘Look at this.’

Shinsuke had seen disgusting wounds--in such scenarios, he was usually the one inflicting them--but _this_ made him wince, even after having caught glimpses of it on multiple occasions. It wasn’t even a wound at all—the skin was more stripped than marred, as if his very arm was unravelling itself, as if something was trying to burst out from underneath it.

‘It’s cursed,’ the Boy explained. ‘I cannot find a cure anywhere else. It is by the hand of the gods, and it must be undone by them.’

‘This cannot be by the hand of the gods,’ insisted Shinsuke. The gods made and were made of nature, and this was as far from natural as he’d ever seen. The longer he stared at the amalgamation, the more bile he felt creeping up the back of his throat; yet he could not compel himself to look away--for, in some strange, twisted way, this monstrosity had saved his life. The others seemed to react in the same way, some physically recoiling, others bristling in apprehension. 

‘Whether you choose to believe me or not, this wound was inflicted by one of the boars.’

The legion started roaring dissent. The old leader, however, peered at him curiously. 

‘It was not me who killed your kin. It was this.’ The Boy hastily replaced the gauze, and retrieved a wrapped object from his satchel. ‘I found this embedded in the belly of its corpse.’

It was what the humans called a bullet. The boars crowded around them, sniffing at it frantically. 

The old leader nudged them aside and touched his snout to the Boy’s forehead. ‘Show me.’ 

The Boy closed his eyes, and the rest of the legion inched away. The old leader mused over this, sharing a silent conversation with the Boy’s memories, and nodded. 

‘I did not want to kill him,’ said the Boy. His voice was rich with sadness. ‘I only wanted to put him out of the mercy this bullet denied him.’

The old leader nodded. ‘You have done us a great service. Thank you. We will spare you today: however, you must understand that we will not be so merciful if you encroach on our territory a second time.’

‘We will ensure that does not happen,’ spoke Mother finally. She fixed a firm gaze on Shinsuke. ‘Child, we have plans to discuss.’

‘Wolf,’ said the old leader, ‘when do you plan on attacking the wretched human town? We ride as soon as we can.’

Mother considered it. ‘It depends on the humans’ plan. Shinsuke will scout and report it for us, and we’ll relay the information to you.’

Seemingly satisfied with that, the boars retreated.

Even Mother seemed to sag in relief. She turned to Shinsuke. ‘Come, child. Let’s go home.’

* * *

The Boy introduced himself as Wakatoshi. _Wa-ka-to-shi._ The four, distinctly human syllables grated their way down his sandpaper tongue, but not in a way Shinsuke recognised, unfamiliar even from the bits of dialogue he was usually able to catch from his skirmishes. Kenjirou had already told him, but—‘You’re really not from around here,’ he surmised. 

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I am not.’

He, apparently, was a prince of something-or-other village in the far East. ‘Not a kingdom,’ he corrected, when Kita voiced his speculations. ‘Just a village.’ The village is called Ushijima, a name even more foreign to his ears. 

‘Then what makes you a prince?’

Wakatoshi’s shoulders dropped. ‘I am the last one. The last heir, really.’

‘Alright,’ he frowned. ‘Then what are you doing all the way out here instead of fulfilling your duty to your people? Especially so close to your death?’ 

Wakatoshi looked discomforted by this—later, when Shinsuke came to know the boy, he would learn that this expression was one of deep sadness. ‘This is my way of fulfilling my duties. It is too dangerous for the people to be near me now.’

‘Because of your arm.’

‘Yes.’ Hidden at his side, his demon arm involuntarily flexed slightly. 

‘But I also think I have always wanted to meet the gods. They have a deep reverence for existence. I wanted to partake in that.’ 

‘That’s a dangerous game to play, Wakatoshi,’ said Shinsuke, still trying to figure out how to wrap the syllables around his tongue. ‘The God of the forest only emerges at the full moon. Every four weeks. You were very lucky already.’

Wakatoshi frowned, as if remembering something suddenly. ‘On my way here, I met a wandering traveller. He claimed he would meet with Oikawa Tooru and make a bargain with him. It was through him that I learned about the Deer God. It might be possible that—‘

Shinsuke’s fists clenched. ‘They want to bring in the God’s head for the security of their own town, no? Typical.’

Wakatoshi’s eyes were fixed on the far wall. He did not speak. 

Shinsuke took in a deep, shuddering breath. ‘We can form a plan, then.’ 

He called Mother in. 

After filling her in, Mother summoned a gathering and spoke, her deep growl echoing through the forest. ‘In another four weeks’ time, the God will emerge again. This is when the humans will most likely stage their siege of the forest, but it will also be when _we_ are the most powerful. We cannot attack the humans directly; their weapons and Seijoh’s defences are too potent to risk that. Instead, we will wait for them to come to us, and they will be divided, too, because they cannot leave Seijoh unfortified.’

Shinsuke turned to the Boy—Wakatoshi. ‘After this, then it should be safe for you to meet the Forest Spirit. We will fetch you some water and herbs from the holy lake in the meantime; they should slow down the swelling. But you must remember that you cannot do anything that attracts the humans’ attention to you and us beforehand. They do not know that you are still alive. They do not know that I am, either, and if they find out they will hunt both of us down at the first opportunity, and they do not know how weakened you are, so keep a low profile.’

Wakatoshi looked at him curiously. ‘You are one of us—you are human—but you call us them.’

‘Don’t call me a human,’ Shinsuke retorted swiftly. ‘Can you do that for us?’ 

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But you must let me prepare for the battle ahead.’

‘Don’t worry,’ replied Shinsuke. ‘I might be helping you, but don’t think you’ll be off the hook just yet.’

* * *

Things were not going to routine. 

Shinsuke hated this. He hated having to wait, to sit dimly as the rest of the world waged war on them. Seijoh’s attacks had stopped, mostly, probably so that most of their efforts could be focused on hunting down the God. This was necessary preparation, but it was not as efficient as Shinsuke would have wanted. 

But he had Wakatoshi. 

Wakatoshi, who trained with him every day, every bit his equal even in his weak physical state. Wakatoshi, whom he brought food to and ended up having deep conversations with into the night. Wakatoshi, who was, for lack of better word, wonderful company, and soon became closer than any Shinsuke had ever truly had. 

Wakatoshi, who was human, but not in any of the ways Shinsuke had ever known before. He knew to expect the unexpected. He was good at it. But this, spending time with another human, a human who understood, a human who wanted to help and to unreservedly care—

—Wakatoshi, who was human the way Shinsuke was—

—it was...surprisingly rewarding. 

Wakatoshi told him about humans. He told him about celebration, about soup broth, and about campfire dances. He told him about the little beads they strung together as children, the beautiful dresses they wore and the beautiful looms that crafted them, and about the view from their watchtowers at the border of their village. Shinsuke said it couldn’t have been better than the view they had of their forest. Wakatoshi said he would take him there once, and let him judge for himself. 

In return, Shinsuke taught him the ways of the forest. Which berries to pick, which animals could be befriended. How to communicate with the spirits; how to avoid those who only meant harm. Where the shelters were. Which trees were the oldest and most revered, which were the safest to leap through. 

He knew far too much, thought Shinsuke, watching him taking sure, steady steps around the cave, learning how to balance on his two feet again, one hand steadied on the jagged wall, the other on the back of one of their sturdiest wolves, Akagi, one of the several wolves he’d come to, somehow, _befriend_ in the haze of the past weeks of recovery.

He knew far too much, thought Shinsuke, high in the trees past any line of late-afternoon visibility as Wakatoshi spoke in hushed tones with Mother down below, their steps leaving sunken, red echoes on the leaves of the forest floor.

He knew far too much, and yet.

Yet Shinsuke sat by him as he slept, the midnight wind billowing past, and relished the way he looked when he wasn’t haunted by his wakefulness. He knew far too much, and yet Shinsuke could not find it in him, when all was said and done, to look him in the eye--the eye of someone who would never succumb to the evil that tainted him--and kill him for it.

* * *

‘Then it is strange. How you stand out most of all, yet blend in better than the most potent camouflage.’ Wakatoshi tapped his chin mid-conversation. ‘Forgive me if this is intrusive--I have been told that I can be overwhelmingly blunt--but how do you balance it?’

‘Fluidity and consistency are two sides of the same coin,’ shrugged Shinsuke, throwing twigs into the last flickering embers of light between them. ‘I was raised by a language that was never mine to speak, on expectations I have to overturn just to live another day. I don’t have a choice other than to flip.’ He stood and walked to the window of their cave. 

Wakatoshi followed him. 'I don't want to kill Oikawa.'

Shinsuke stared out into the blueness of the evening. It would no longer ever be so quiet. ‘You don’t want to kill anyone.’

‘I don’t. But the people love him. He saved them out of the misery they'd been in before and gave them a new life. He is a true leader to them. Perhaps if there was a way to keep them all while also saving the forest--'

‘There is no such way.’

'We will find a way, Shinsuke.'

‘You mean _you_ will. And you only have the night. You cannot do anything to redeem what they have done.’

‘I know. But I can try.’ Wakatoshi tucked himself in. ‘Rest well tonight, Shinsuke. We’ll both need it for the morning.’

* * *

The day came, and it came too soon.

The boars charged at the crack of dawn. Shinsuke went with them, taking Osamu. Wakatoshi would take Atsumu. Shinsuke didn’t get to see either of them before they had to leave.

Best that he didn’t, Mother would have said. Best that they stayed apart, lest they let that sentimentality grow even further. 

But Wakatoshi had left him something.

Shinsuke’s fists tightened on Osamu’s fur. The thundering of the boar legions’ hooves grew ever louder. 

Wakatoshi’s dagger lay heavy on his chest. He had left it on Shinsuke’s bedside even while his own pallet remained empty. Shinsuke had tied it around his neck—if anything, it gave him a vow: that he _would_ see Wakatoshi again to return it.

What happened next was death. There was no other way to describe it. 

Standing amongst the carcasses of the fallen legion, Shinsuke started feeling despair eat away at him. And that was when the enemy came.

The humans had cleaved the boarskin into pelts, disguised themselves in their fur. It was despicable. But the old leader, blinded and barely breathing, did not care. He saw his old soldiers, and he charged with them. 

Shinsuke leapt onto his back, breaking branches down as they fell onto the path before them. It did nothing to slow them down. ‘Wait,’ he yelled. ‘These are not your people. Please, PLEASE. STOP.’

A gun peeked out from underneath one of the boar’s pelts. It fired a quick, small bullet. Shinsuke had long ago learned that those were the most dangerous of all. 

Then there were maggots, and someone was screaming, and the world became bloody and dark as the demons spread through the old leader underneath him and ensnared him, taking him right along with them.

And Shinsuke fought, and fought, and fought, for what felt like eternity, until he _was_ the darkness himself, and he could not breathe, he _could not breathe,_ and the last thing he could think of was Mother, and then Wakatoshi, and—

Suddenly, a lone hand, burrowing through the darkness. 

A voice. 

_Please don’t die on me, Shinsuke._

_Please._

With the last of his strength, Shinsuke reached out, and Wakatoshi grabbed his hand, pulled him out of the boar leader’s corpse.

Then, pain. 

Then, there was water, and he was drowning, but he could breathe, and he knew this sensation, had both seen it and felt it before, and—

He broke the surface of the lake with a gasp.

Mother was there. Wakatoshi was there. And so was Oikawa, and his horde of soldiers. 

It was Mother who pulled him out of the lake by her teeth, but it was Wakatoshi who shook him awake.

‘Don’t look so happy to see me,’ he muttered. ‘What just happened?’

‘This.’ Wakatoshi jabbed his finger at the island on the lake, where, slowly but surely, the God was materialising. 

‘They’re going to shoot it,’ he realised, with mounting horror.

‘You’re going to go blind!’ Wakatoshi yelled, at Oikawa, at the rest of the humans. ‘Don’t look at it.’

‘Oh, don’t be stupid and blame me for being a superstitious coward that I’m not,’ muttered Oikawa, and loaded the rifle.

The God made eye contact with him. The wood of the rifle started sprouting green, shoots, flowers, life itself reclaiming the weapon.

Oikawa fired the shot.

They had watched as the rifle was rendered useless in his hands. But he had fired the shot.

And the God’s head tore off its transformed body. It clattered to the floor in an unceremonious, almost anticlimactic thud.

For a moment, nothing happened, and the world held together with bated breath.

Then the body started turning black. 

‘Run,’ hissed Shinsuke, as the void that was once the God started devouring the air, the space, the light between them. The humans, as if they’d only just realised what they had done, started doing the sensible thing and fleeing the scene. 

Wait. Mother.

‘She’s dead,’ said Wakatoshi, pointing to the area where she once was. She’d torn off Oikawa’s arm and lost her life to the void in the process. ‘I’m so sorry.’ 

‘Nothing you can say will save the forest now,’ Shinsuke growled. ‘What were you doing while the rest of us suffered?’

‘The rest of Seijoh is on our side now,’ said Wakatoshi. ‘I’ll explain later, but I need to know where Oikawa is—‘

‘Fuck Oikawa.’ Shinsuke couldn’t stop the tears now. ‘Fuck you. You’re no better than the rest of them.’

Wakatoshi looked at a loss for words. Then, he did the last thing Shinsuke expected. He hugged him fiercely. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered into Shinsuke’s shoulder. ‘I truly am.’

Shinsuke wrenched himself away from him, ignoring the strange burning in his chest, attempting to push it down until he realised that it was-- _hope_. An idea. ‘There may be something we can do. We can return the head. That may reunite the God with its body.’

‘Then we should do our best to find the head as soon as possible,’ said Wakatoshi. There was no time to waste. ‘I want to find Oikawa first. He will know where they have taken it.’

They found Oikawa, through a hideous trail of blood, lying on the floor of the forest. He was surrounded by the people of Seijoh. As soon as they saw Wakatoshi, they parted for them. 

‘All I want,’ Oikawa whispered, clutching the stump of his arm, breath tearing out from him in ragged clusters, ‘is for my people to live. I would do _anything_ for that. Even kill a god.’

‘I know,’ said Shinsuke. He knelt, feeling the townspeople bristle around them, and gently closed Oikawa’s eyes for him. ‘I understand now. I think I always have.’

* * *

They returned the head. Then, they collapsed on top of each other. 

Later, when he disentangled the clarity of the memory from the confusion of the moment, Shinsuke would come to realise that it was the first time his skin hadn’t crawled at the contact of another person.

Wakatoshi lifted his left hand and peeled off the gauze. Shinsuke watched him almost expectantly, waiting to see what would happen, now that all had been done.

The skin was fully healed save for a massive scar running down all the way from pinky to elbow. He wondered briefly what Wakatoshi thought about this, a permanent reminder of the corruption that nearly overcame him, but instead of reacting to the scar, Wakatoshi merely placed his hand back on the ground and flexed his fingers, wiggling them experimentally and letting soft dirt crumble between his nails.

‘This is good soil,’ he said finally. ‘Very fertile.’

It was so typical of the prince he'd come to know that Shinsuke couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, brilliant and unexpectedly light. Wakatoshi’s fingers found his in the windswept grass and they stayed and let the sun beat down their backs until they could hold it no longer.

Later, as they sat and enjoyed dinner on the outskirts of Seijoh's remains, Wakatoshi told him, 'I need to return to my people in the East, eventually.'

Shinsuke hadn’t expected any other answer. ‘Of course. You are a prince. It is your duty to your people.’

(Briefly, he wondered when he started referring to humans not just as humans, but as people. Flesh worth living for, dying for.

He wondered if this meant he could stop hating himself for it too.)

‘But I will stay for a time. I will help the people here. We can build a stronger town, one that can coexist harmoniously with the forest and the gods.'

Shinsuke raised an eyebrow, but there was no venom behind it. ‘Is that even possible?’ 

‘I don’t know. But we will make it so. Oikawa has pledged to help.'

Shinsuke didn't doubt that. 'I do believe Oikawa Tooru is too busy being drunk as of the present moment to make any verification on that matter.'

'I told him to rest for his arm, but he and his ridiculously high pain tolerance wouldn't have wanted to miss the party.'

Shinsuke laughed, and it was easy. 'You're right. He wouldn't.'

'He told me it was an arm for an arm. Mine for his.’ 

Wakatoshi paused. ‘Will you help me?’

‘Wakatoshi, you must understand I cannot live here,’ he said finally. ‘There is too much I cannot forgive.’

Wakatoshi dipped his head. ‘I understand that.’ Then, ‘Will you see me?’

‘Let me finish,’ chided Shinsuke. The warmth of their dinner seemed to soften the edges of his thoughts; or, maybe, that was just Wakatoshi’s inquisitive, mindful gaze on him. Shinsuke should have--couldn’t have--known from the beginning: that when he met those eyes, he would not be able to let go so easily. That he would not want to. ‘My duty is, as well, first and foremost to my tribe. To my family. But if that, in turn, means helping you, in however way I can, so be it.’ He took Wakatoshi's hand in his. 'We will find a way.'

They rarely ever needed too many words between them. Wakatoshi considered this, and then he smiled, the shadows of the firelight leaping with the simple movement as if in reflection of that joy. And that was answer enough for Shinsuke. 

* * *

Things change again. Perhaps one could say they went back to normal, but Shinsuke wasn’t sure there was ever a normal in the first place. 

Shinsuke finds a new routine in this, and along with it, a new kind of simple happiness. The difference is, the routine breaks, sometimes, and that’s alright too. Adaptability is a virtue. 

It breaks like this, split in two by a vague shadow treading carefully through the forest, flitting in and out of visibility with the wane of the moon. 

Shinsuke takes off in a running start, bare footfalls free-skimming over the new undergrowth. He wonders if this is what it’s truly like to be human--to chase something impossible until it turns back to meet you in the eye, to shout out four syllables of an achingly familiar name. To meet skin with skin, to brush a thumb over the scarred warmth of another, to press to the heated thrum of a racing heartbeat. To crash into leaves and to laugh unendingly, noise upon joyful noise made real under the light of the moon. If it is, then he will allow himself to be human. He will allow himself to be free.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe this is not just my first bang fic, but also my first Haikyuu fic. That's absolutely insane holy shit.
> 
> Anyway, I might not be on twitter a while, but I'm certainly not out of writing for the fandom just yet. Hell, this is just the start. I have so many ushiois yet to unleash on the world EHEHEHEHE
> 
> On that note, I'm so glad it was Ushikita. I love them. I love them so much. And I love this movie too, so it was perfect to combine the two. They fit super well--I definitely changed some major plot details to suit their relationship development better, but I hope it still flowed okay! Also, Lady Eboshi is my favourite character, and combined with how much I talk about Oikawa it made for a flawless role match. Hopefully he didn't steal the show too much. HahahaHAhahaa
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all have a lovely day!


End file.
